Takuya walked away from the Marveller. His body ached. Garia's relentless training had taken its toll. Each step felt heavy. A dull throb pulsed in his muscles.
He thought about Garia's brutal criticisms. The endless drills. He knew Garia was right. He lacked control. But the constant pressure felt suffocating.
Garia barely gave him a moment to breathe. Let alone process the incredible changes happening to him. The metallic tang of ozone from the Marveller still lingered in his nose. It was a constant reminder of the alien world he now inhabited.
"That Garia! It was my first time training. Couldn't he have gotten a bit easier!"
He muttered under his breath, kicking at a loose pebble on the ground. His voice was a low grumble. He felt a sting of resentment. The alien warrior pushed him too hard, too fast. It was like trying to run a marathon before learning to walk.
His mind replayed Garia's last words, sharp and unyielding. The old warrior's gaze had been intense. It was like he was looking right through him.
"You must master this. There is no other way."
Takuya clenched his jaw. He could still hear the echo of those words. They were a heavy weight on his shoulders.
He was lost in his thoughts. Then he saw Nijika.
She walked towards him. From the direction of STARRY. Her blonde hair pulled into its usual side ponytail. She wore a casual band t-shirt and jeans. Not her school uniform. She must have changed after school.
Her presence was a bright splash of color against his dark mood. She waved. Her customary energy was still intact. A flicker of his old self ignited inside him. A warmth spread through him despite the fatigue.
"Takkun!" Nijika called out. Her bright smile faltered slightly as she approached. Her vermilion eyes searched his face. "Where did you go after lunch? You just disappeared from school."
Takuya scrambled for an excuse. "I… uh… couldn't focus." He mumbled, his gaze drifting. "Just felt too restless to sit in class."
Nijika's expression softened. She understood. "It's okay, Takkun." Her voice was gentle. "It hasn't been long since your father… anyone would struggle to concentrate."
Her empathy was a balm on his frayed nerves. It made his guilt for lying even sharper.
"Sorry," he muttered. His voice was rough with shame. "About your uniform, I mean."
Nijika waved her hand. She brushed it off. "It's fine, Takkun. Really. It was an accident after all." A small, forgiving smile touched her lips.
She handed him his forgotten school bag.
A wave of relief washed over Takuya. Followed by a renewed sense of guilt. His uncontrollable powers. The trouble he had caused. How easily she forgave him.
She's too good for this.
They found a bench. They sat down. Nijika pulled out two juice boxes. She offered one to Takuya. He took a long sip. The sweet, cold liquid was a small comfort.
Nijika started reminiscing. Their childhood. Her voice softened. So did his. Shared memories. Tag in the park. Pretending to be rock stars in her family's living room.
"Remember that time you tried to jump the ditch on your first motocross bike?" Nijika chuckled. "You wiped out spectacularly. Hiroshi Ojisan had to pick you up."
"You wiped out spectacularly. Hiroshi Ojisan had to pick you up."
Takuya chuckled.
He remembered the gravel tearing at his skin.
He must have been eight or nine. Too confident on his first motocross bike. The gravel patch appeared out of nowhere. One second, he was flying. The next, the ground rushed to meet him.
A sickening slide.
The burning on his knee. He pushed himself up. Nijika, a small blonde blur, was there instantly. Her face was a mask of worry. She reached for his arm.
"Don't!"
He remembered pushing her away. Pride and pain, a bad combination. He did not want her to see him weak. Not like that.
Then his father appeared. Hiroshi. A calm presence. He always knew what to do. The familiar first-aid kit was in his hands.
His father cleaned the wound. His touch was gentle but firm.
"Even a hero needs to be careful, Takuya," his father said.
Takuya mumbled a promise to do better. He felt like a fool.
Later, he sat on the porch. The sting of the fall and his embarrassment still lingered. Nijika found him there. She sat beside him, silent. She offered him half of her candy bar. He remembered the unexpected sweetness of it. The quiet comfort of her presence. It was a simple gesture. It stayed with him. A quiet reminder that she was always there.
She was always there.
He had always thought of Nijika as just his neighbor. The energetic kid who was always around. In moments like that, when his guard was down, her kindness always surprised him.
"You really loved your motocross back then." Nijika's voice pulled him back to the present.
"Still do," Takuya replied. His voice was quiet. "Just… things are different now."
Different. That was an understatement.
He remembered a rainy afternoon. They were ten or eleven. Trapped inside her family's living room. Bored, he had started banging on empty snack containers. Making a racket.
Nijika had not complained. Her eyes were bright with an excited grin.
"Let's make a stage!"
He had rolled his eyes. A motocross track was far more appealing. But she was insistent. So, they dragged cardboard boxes. They built a lopsided stage. He pretended to shred a guitar with a broom. Striking dramatic poses that made her laugh.
She used pencils as drumsticks. Tapping a rhythm that, even then, sounded good. Her eyes held a distant look. A dream.
"I'm going to play music in a real live house someday."
He remembered the sincerity in her voice. A passion that was infectious. He just nodded. Telling her it sounded fun. He meant it. Seeing her so happy. So absorbed in her dream. It was a good feeling. It made him want to protect that joy.
She had big dreams. Bigger than just their small neighborhood.
He knew even then that Nijika saw something more than just their shared childhood. He had always admired her drive. Even if he did not understand it fully at the time.
Nijika noticed his sudden quietness. Her bright vermilion eyes softened. "Are you okay, Takkun?" she asked gently.
He didn't want to burden her. Not with his grief. Not with his secret. He forced a weak joke. "Just remembering how bad I was."
Nijika looked hurt. His quick change of mood. She didn't push him. Her understanding was clear in her silence.
"I really miss Hiroshi Ojisan," Nijika said softly. The words hung in the air. A heavy blanket of shared sorrow.
"Yeah, I miss him too…"
"You know," Nijika continued. "Without a father of my own… Hiroshi Ojisan was always like a second father to me."
Takuya thought about Hiroshi. The man who had always taught him about responsibility. The man who had been taken from them.
He looked at Nijika. Her face was tinged with sadness. A cold, firm resolve settled in his heart.
I will get my justice.
My revenge.
For both of us.
Nijika was lost in her own thoughts of grief. She didn't notice the grim determination. It hardened Takuya's eyes.
The sun dipped lower. Long shadows stretched across the pavement. Takuya stood up.
"I'll walk you home," he said.
Nijika teased him. "Oh? I'm not a kid who needs an escort, Takkun." She nudged his arm playfully.
Takuya pressed the point. His voice held an unusual firmness. "It's not safe these days." A hidden worry. For her safety. It stemmed from his new understanding. The world's hidden dangers.
Nijika was surprised. By his insistence. She gave in. A faint blush on her cheeks.
They walked. Her arm brushed his. She felt a quiet warmth. From his protective gesture. A hopeful sign. Of his underlying care for her.
Takuya, however, felt the growing chasm. Between his secret life. And the normalcy she represented. The heavy weight of his vengeful path. A silent companion.
* * *
A soft, rhythmic hum filled the cavernous command center. Professor Monster's voice, a deep metallic resonance, cut through the quiet. His yellow eyes, like molten gold, were fixed on the swirling holographic projection of Earth.
Amazoness stood beside him. Her crimson eyes, sharp and predatory, mirrored his intensity. She watched the blue-green marble. Her silver hair, long and flowing, draped over the black-and-red of her bodysuit. The Iron Cross emblem etched on her cheek pulsed with a faint red glow.
"This world will be ours." His voice dropped, a low growl. "The final jewel in our galactic crown."
She felt the power of his ambition. It was a tangible force, a pressure in the air. His will was absolute.
He gestured to the projection. It zoomed in, showing continents, cities, human activity. "Our plans, Amazoness, have been centuries in the making. Now is our moment to unleash them."
He began outlining his strategy. His words were precise, each one a calculated strike. They would use their advanced technology. They would forge formidable weapons. They would convert the weak into their soldiers.
A familiar song.
A grand symphony of destruction.
Amazoness listened. Her expression remained unreadable. Her mind, however, was a whirlwind of calculations. She understood the Professor's vision. She knew the power of their technology. Yet, a critical weakness pulsed beneath the surface of his grand pronouncements.
Resources.
The Iron Cross Army, for all its might, did not possess an infinite supply. Their Machine BEMs, their Ninders, their very ships – all required materials. Earth had resources, yes, but extracting them would demand time. And effort. And discretion.
We are not limitless.
They could not simply overwhelm the planet with sheer numbers. Not yet. Not without significant preparation. The Professor's methods relied on precise, devastating strikes, not brute force. She mentally cataloged the strategic needs: rare earth minerals, advanced energy sources, biological components for cybernetic enhancements.
Professor Monster turned his head slightly. His yellow eyes, sharp as lasers, found hers.
"This world… it is a ripe fruit, Amazoness," he mused. His voice was laced with contempt for the planet's inhabitants. "Waiting to be plucked."
Amazoness allowed herself a slight, predatory smirk. Her voice, a low, sultry purr, carried a hint of mockery.
"Even a ripe fruit, Professor, still requires effort to pluck."
A low, metallic chuckle escaped Professor Monster. It held no warmth. No humor. Only the cold sound of grinding gears.
"Indeed." He paused, his gaze sweeping over the holographic Earth. "Then pluck it, Amazoness."
His voice hardened. "Secure the necessary resources. Failure is not an option."
Never an option.
Amazoness gave a sharp, confident nod. Her silver hair swayed with the movement. A fierce, predatory glint shone in her crimson eyes.
"I will personally oversee the acquisition, Professor Monster."
Scouting targets. Her thoughts raced, already drawing up plans.
The holographic map shifted. Industrial complexes. Research facilities. Mining operations. Each one a potential target. Each one a source of what they needed.
The insects will provide.
Her claws, long and sharp, twitched at her sides. She would begin with reconnaissance. Her plan for extraction already began to form.
***
Advance Chapters on patreon.com/Najicablitz.
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